Leary baulked, goggled at him, then crossed uncertainly to the sink before gazing helplessly around at the cupboards lining the walls. ‘What? Where . . .?’

‘I’ll do it.’ Tilly filled a jug and bent over the swearing man. ‘Open your eyes.’ He did so to disclose bloodshot eyes that were continually tearing. He swore at her as she splashed water over his face and swollen cheeks. ‘You’re alive,’ she snapped, ‘unlike the men you’ve killed. And if you don’t stop that language, your eyes can go unflushed. It’s no skin off my nose.’ He glared at her, the veins of his temple swelling, but the swearing stopped.

‘What are we going to do with him?’ she asked when she had finished her ministrations and had beckoned Connor to the far end of the kitchen.

‘I’ve been thinking about that.’ He yawned and stretched. ‘For the moment, can you find a blanket? We’ll leave him handcuffed and tether him to a verandah post till morning. That ought to hold him. Then we’re all going to get some sleep. But first I want to speak to Des. He’s the only one I can reach that I know I can trust. He’ll be back in Darwin by dawn. I’ll get him arrange a plane and take Wilmot in myself. They’ll all know about Burns’ murder by then, and every corrupt cop in the station will be ducking for cover. I’ll contact a few of my own men just to be on the safe side. We might even hold him ourselves until the dust settles. We do have the facilities.’ He yawned again and nodded. ‘Yeah, that’ll be the way to go. If any of the senior cops object – well, their dead sergeant’s a powerful argument for doing it my way. Which reminds me, love, what became of his gun?’

‘I threw it under the house.’ Tilly said. ‘I just wanted to get rid of it.’

‘I’ll retrieve it in the morning. It’s evidence. I wonder where the bullet went?’

‘Into the wall, or the china cabinet, though nothing’s broken, so maybe not.’

‘We’ll check it out tomorrow. You’ll be swarmed with police,’ he warned, ‘taking statements and collecting evidence.’

Sophie wandered over in time to hear this. ‘What about my animals? Can I let them out of those damned cages?’

‘Have you somewhere else to hold them?’ Connor asked. ‘They’ll need to be photographed. If you could keep them captive for a few days . . .?’

‘We could use the enclosure,’ Tilly suggested. ‘The cockies could go in the hen-house, perhaps? And the possum cage would hold any little ones. I don’t know about the reptiles,’ she said doubtfully.

‘We’ll fix something up. The professor can make himself useful.’